


Some Weekend Or Other

by Coriander_Dreams



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, M/M, Minor Painplay, Multi, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Polyamory, Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex, Safewords, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fisting, clear communication, cute mushy feelings, literally this is just porn and some character development, previously established relationships, safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriander_Dreams/pseuds/Coriander_Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Leslie's relationship with Ann, and Ann's with Chris, and Ben's with Chris, and Leslie's with Ben, and all four of them together. Lots of sex and a good deal of cute fluffiness set in the nebulous future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Weekend Or Other

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I actually wrote this and am posting it quickly before I lose my nerve, so please let me know if you spot any errors because I haven't subjected it to my normal standards of editing. And I haven't written explicit sex before, really. Not anywhere near this, at least, so any feedback you've got is greatly appreciated. Mostly I was looking to explore another set-up on poly relationships and it somehow turned into two varieties of one-on-one queer sex and then a foursome? I don't know how this happened.

            On some weekend or other in even-numbered months, Ann and Chris take their kids down to Leslie and Ben's. And on odd-numbered months, Leslie and Ben drive their family up to Ann and Chris. It's a comforting, familiar arrangement. And the kids are always excited to see their "cousins"--the havoc they wreak during the daytime is unparalleled. Given that they all know both Leslie and Chris, that's _really_ saying something. But anyway, what's that Ann read in Darwin's _Expression of Emotions in Man and Animal_ back in college--that the traits of the parent generation express themselves earlier in the offspring? Perhaps that's actually true. The four of them would complain, albeit lovingly, a bit more except that it's a good thing the kids tire themselves out and inevitably fall asleep solidly and early.

 

            It wouldn't do to have them up in the middle of the night.

 

            Because on those late, Friday nights, Ben and Chris take the guestroom and Ann and Leslie the master. This is both out of habit and due to the fact that Ann and Les make use of the bathtub whereas Chris and Ben are more shower men themselves, but that's neither here nor there. So while their boys go off to have their own fun Leslie undresses for Ann.

 

            Ann, kind, sweet, loving Ann who spent years and years of her life following Leslie's strangest whims with nigh-on infinite patience? On this simultaneously routine and exceptional Friday in January she tells Leslie to kneel, and Leslie--who's got such a knack for talking--does so without a word.

            "Very good," Ann whispers, stroking the side of her face. "I'm going to tie your hands behind your back now, all right?"

            "Yes" Leslie is quiet but undoubtedly enthusiastic.

            "Uh-huh," Ann shakes her head in teasing reproach, "Remember how you address me?"

            "Yes please _miss_ " Leslie corrects herself. They tried "ma'am" the first time--many years ago--but it just felt bizarre. They may be solidly into their early forties now but Ann is no "ma'am", even here.

            "Good girl," Ann's voice is like honey, and Leslie beams in response. "Now," Ann continues as she winds the strip of cotton cloth around her wrists, "How's that feel?"

            "Perfect, miss." Leslie's breath hitches. She loves the tight feeling of the fabric around her wrists, and every time Ann ties it she remembers all the other times they've done this, and her entire body flushes with arousal at the thought.

            "All right," Ann continues, "I want you to stay just there, okay? Don't move."

            "Yes miss." Leslie's already undressed, but until now Ann had still been clothed, so Leslie watches with unabashed interest as Ann slowly unbuttons her shirt, slides her pants off her gorgeous legs. God, how she loves Ann. And how she loves _this_ \--it was a surprise, the first time, how good it felt to completely let go of the notion of control. And yet, in a way, here Leslie has more power than ever, more than all her various and sundry government positions combined, because Ann will never, ever hurt her. She'll only make her feel good. And in fact, as Ann has demonstrated on multiple occasions, she's willing to go to fairly extreme lengths to insure no-one else hurts her either. So it is with excited anticipation that she watches Ann methodically lay out her tools for the night on the bedside table: the strap-on Leslie's partial to and their harness, lube, a sharp metal-nibbed pen without ink, a nice, tight gag.

            "Now," Ann says as she returns to Leslie, "What would you like first?"

            " _You_ , miss" is Leslie's reply--deliberately vague, actually, but certainly honest. Her body hums with longing.

            "I'm afraid that's not specific enough," Ann returns, knowing Leslie's game full well and willingly playing along, "You'll have to give me more detail. What do you want?"

            "I want to taste you on my tongue, miss. I want to kiss up your thighs and fuck you with my mouth until you come." Leslie's voice is lust-deepened, her pupil's dilated. As Ann's face flushes she continues, "You turn me on so much miss."

            "Really?" Ann raises an eyebrow, going for coolly unaffected and not quite succeeding, "I've barely touched you." As if to make up for this grave sin she winds her fingers through Leslie's hair, tugging gently. Leslie gasps in pleasure.

            "Really, miss." is all she manages in response. She could swear she had something else to say, but now all she can think of is the tension of Ann's fingers in her hair, of how close Ann's body is to her.

            "Can you do it here, on the floor, or would the bed be better?" Ann asks--it's an important question; they aren't so young any more. Still, Leslie responds without hesitation.

            "Here is perfect, miss"

            "Good," Ann replies, taking another step closer so that Leslie's face is just inches from her center, "then you may."

            "Thank you," Leslie whispers, and Ann doesn't correct her because as soon as the words are out of her mouth she keeps her promise, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Ann's thighs. It takes all of Ann's willpower to keep from squirming, especially when Leslie nips lightly at her sensitive skin.

            "Bad girl," she hisses, tugging sharply at blond hair in retaliation.

            "Sorry miss," Leslie smirks up at her, not sorry at all as her tongue finally strokes Ann's center, circles her clit, alternates between sucking the sensitive nub and pushing her tongue up, just inside Ann, thrusting quickly the way she knows she likes. Leslie's always loved this--the heat of Ann surrounding her, the nearly infinite textures of her beneath her tongue, the scent and taste that is all indescribably Ann and, tonight at least, wholly _hers_ to command. She loves too the way Ann's fingers tighten in her hair, the way she barely restrains her hips from bucking, the sounds she makes as she nears orgasm until she comes with a wordless shout.

 

            "Good girl," Ann says when she's caught her breath, reaching down to run her fingers through the slick still prevalent on her face before leaning down to kiss her for the first time that night, deep and sure. "Now," she says as she draws back, breathless, "I believe it's my turn." She helps Leslie stand, a process made undeniably awkward by her hands still bound, which causes them both to giggle softly, but once they're upright and Ann's hands are running down Leslie's hypersensitive body they're in the moment again.

            Ann guides her to the bed, helps her get positioned so that her head is appropriately raised from the mattress. Then she moves back off the bed for a moment, pulling on the harness and fiddling with it until the straps are just right, and their "purple plastic penis" as Leslie has always insisted on calling it (even though, as Ann is quick to point out, the damn thing is made of silicone) is snug against her. Leslie has turned her head to watch, and when Ann notices she cocks her head in thought.

            "Eyes closed please." She commands after a moment.

            "Yes miss." Leslie obediently closes her eyes tight, even though the anticipation of what's to come is nearly unbearable. She keeps them closed as Ann kisses her again before moving to bite at her pulse point, her collarbone, and finally her breasts. Manages to remain, eyes miraculously closed, still as Ann picks up the pen, runs it roughly over Leslie's chest in swirling lines. She leaves raised pink lines against her pale skin as Leslie just restrains herself from arching into the feeling of the pen--the counterpoint of pleasure and pain, the delicious ambiguity between wanting more pressure and less--until she's lost in the sensation.

 

            After some time Leslie hears Ann set the pen down again and open the lube with a barely-audible pop. She hears, rather than sees, Ann move her hand slickly along their fake cock, getting it nice and wet for her.

            Finally Ann speaks again, "Okay," she whispers against Leslie's ear before leaning over kiss firmly behind her earlobe--which has always been a sensitive spot, "You may open your eyes now."

            "Thank you miss," Leslie gasps in response. Though whether she's thanking her for the thrumming arousal now just beneath her skin or for permitting her to see her beautiful friend again, neither of them could say.

            "Are you ready?" Ann asks, nuzzling her cheek. There's no need to clarify what for.

            "Yes _please_ miss." Leslie says again, and with that Ann thrusts into her, kissing her firmly once she's inside until Leslie breaks away. "Miss," she asks, still deferential but unusually commanding, " _Move_ "

            Ann laughs in response. "Of course," she replies, setting a steady rhythm, "of course." She continues pressing kisses to Leslie's face, her collarbone, her shoulder, until Leslie wraps her legs around her hips pulls her even further inside with a quiet groan. Thereafter the pace increases until they're both panting, and Leslie's mouth falls open, eyes involuntarily shut tight again, as she comes with a reverent " _Ann_ " Her cunt clenches against the cock, and the friction of the base against Ann's clit is so good that, as she fucks Leslie through her orgasm, she comes once more, her forehead falling to Leslie's shoulder before she collapses against her completely.

 

            They lay there, in a sweaty, sticky mess, for some time--talking and laughing and kissing and running gentle hands over each other. Not to arouse, but to reassure, and to say--thank you, I've got you, I love you, that was wonderful--with their bodies as well as their words. Finally they get out of bed, replace the sheets, and draw a hot bath. They each shower in turn until they feel clean again before climbing into the tub, where Leslie holds Ann warm against her chest, whispers delighted stories in her ear and they bask in the comfort of simple nearness with each other before curling up in bed together once more and drifting towards a peaceful sleep.

 

            Their husbands are, one floor down, having a similarly uneventful evening. If uneventful is any word to describe how Ben's slight chest, the curve of his soft stomach, is a source of infinite fascination to Chris. The boys don't set a scene, don't do differential power roles or any roleplay at all, even though with Leslie it's a favorite of Ben's. Leslie's theory, upon learning this many years ago, was that he got to be with her all the time so sometimes it's fun for them to pretend to be people they aren't, but he only gets this one weekend a month with Chris. So he wants to savor who his partner _is_.

 

            Chris, meanwhile is kissing him softly, resting his hands on his shoulders as Ben lies back in the bed. The first time they did this was so many years ago now, they were so young. Before Pawnee, before Leslie or Ann, there was this--the two of them trading kisses in the night. They're stripped to their boxers and both growing hard, their erections tenting comically in their underwear, when Ben finally pulls away with a frustrated whine. Chris laughs, lightly--he always has teased Ben for his impatience--before kissing his way down Ben's body until he's nuzzling at his thighs. After what Ben is sure is a small eternity he envelops the head of his cock lightly in his mouth, sucks at it and kisses and takes it further so he can scrape his teeth along the vein on the underside at that particular pressure that always makes Ben's hips cant up, always makes him so close to coming. Tonight, though, Ben's hand clamps down hard at the base of his cock. He's preventing himself from spilling, even though he's slick with precome and clearly ready for it, and Chris is momentarily confused.

            "Chris. Chris," Ben's hand is reassuring in his hair and at the sound of his name Chris looks up, mouth still around the tip of Ben's cock. Finally Ben seems to catch his breath before continuing. "I want you in me." It takes a second for Chris to process what's being said, to tamp down on his growing arousal long enough to understand language, and in that second Ben continues, clarifying, "I want to come with you in me."

            "That," Chris finally replies with a thick swallow, "would quite literally be my pleasure." Ben beams at him in response, and Chris comes back up the bed to kiss him tenderly again. He's always loved this man. As they kiss he reaches, blindly, for the lube on the table; barely manages to get it without knocking the lamp off. They don't use condoms--the only people they have sex with are each other and their wives, and all four of them have been fluid-bonded for so long there's no risk. Hasn't been for a long time--they were careful with testing, in the beginning. They still are. But the tests have always come back clean, except for the occasional UTI or yeast infection that seems all but inevitable, and now condoms are reserved for when one of them is in one of the women. Pregnancy is unlikely, now, but a long ways from impossible and not something anyone wants to go through again.

            In any case, this means that Chris doesn't have to futz with a condom packet at the moment. Which is good, really, because while Chris doesn't much care either way Ben loves the mess. Loves feeling Chris come inside him, and Chris could hardly deny him that tonight, with the flush across his chest, the way he bites his lower lip and moans as Chris uses his fingers to gently warm him up.

           

            Once Ben is pretty much ready for his cock he surprises Chris by flipping them over so that he's on top. Normally, when he asks for what he's asked for tonight, he wants to feel Chris's body above him. The reassuring weight of him, grounding Ben to the bed, to his partner, to the world. Chris has always maintained that the poor boy gets way to far into his own head, used to suggest running as a way to reconnect him to the earth, but that idea never really stuck with Ben. And after awhile Chris realized he was suggesting it because it was his solution for himself, not because it would necessarily work for Ben at all, and he let it go. Now he physically lets go, allows himself to be pushed back into the pillows as Ben sits splayed across his hips, leaning down to kiss him again, to nip at his pulse point.

            "Okay?" Ben asks softly as he reaches down, hand resting at the boarder between his waist and his pubes.

            "Of course" is Chris' response, already dizzy with _want,_ his mind flooding with pure affection. Ben reaches for the lube and slicks Chris up with it, before slowly lowering himself onto his cock with a soft groan. At first he moves slowly, hands braced on Chris' frankly phenomenal pecs, and then as his back arches into a beautiful, if ridiculous, curve, as he finds that angle where Chris is hitting his prostrate every time he speeds his grinding with abandon until he's spilling across Chris's stomach, until the sight of this beautiful man so wanton atop him, so openly sensual, has Chris coming deep within him as Ben collapses against his chest.

 

            Predictably, they have quite a bit to clean up after. They share a shower--not, at least not now--in a sexual sense but just in an intimate one. Trading lazy kisses, passing each other bottles of shampoo or the bar of soap, murmuring to each other as they move about the narrow space to ensure they're both adequately rinsed. Ben loves this part of the evening, the casual closeness of the two of them so inextricably in each other's space, the way Chris reminds him he hasn't put conditioner in yet before pressing another kiss to his shoulder. They stay up late that night--not having sex any more, that urge is pleasantly satisfied--but just talking. Catching up on life, Ben's head tucked against Chris's shoulder.

 

            In the morning Leslie and Ann make waffles for all of them. It's the one of the kid's favorite parts of the weekend: Saturday mornings full of sugary whipped cream and fluffy waffles and lots and lots of laughter. It's one of the adult's favorite parts too--in this very primal way they all smell like each other, now, the way the ought to. And there's a lingering closeness between all four of them that is as comfortable as an old t-shirt used as pajamas: worn and familiar and soft. Leslie is, of course, a complete train wreck of a cook--she's somewhere between far too enthusiastic and far too excitable--but Ann has long since learned how to harness that energy to everyone's benefit by having Leslie chop toppings and monitor the whip cream they now make from scratch instead of buying in a can. On Saturday mornings everything is perfect, the best way to start whatever adventure the day holds for their family.

 

            Saturday evenings are always a treat as well. One of the kids' many sets of grandparents, or occasionally Auntie April and Uncle Andy, come to watch over the whole brood. Once in a blue moon Ron actually volunteers for this task, and then the herd grows a bit with the addition of his and Diana's kids. In any case, Leslie, Ann, Ben and Chris are given a night out, which they always spend at this little lakeside cabin about an hour and a half out of town, the midpoint between their now-distant lives. Ron showed them all how to build it, way back when, and Leslie always tears up a little when she sees it, this solid thing that the four of them made together. They've got land, enough land that they can't see their neighbors. Open space, and a distinct lack of children, is perfect because the cabin only has one bedroom and they don't want to have to worry about how much noise they're making.

 

            Because when you put them all together, my god do they make a lot of noise.

 

            Leslie kneels in front of Ben, taking his cock in her mouth. She is so fond of oral, and Ann's hand is gently on her head as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss Ben deeply above her. Chris stands behind Ben, his hands palming at his hips as he leaves a column of hickies along his neck and Ben is sure he's going to overflow with all the love and warmth and pleasure he's receiving. Finally, Leslie stands up, inserting herself between her husband and her best friend with a grin.

            "Ben," she says, "I'd like you to fuck me please."

 

            So Ann lies back on the bed and pulls Leslie down with her until Leslie is nestled comfortably between her legs. She can feel Ann's breasts pressed against her back, the smirk surely adorning Ann's face where it's pressed behind her ear, and when Ann's hands come up to cup her breasts she sighs in pleasure. Chris, meanwhile, rolls a condom on to her husband, lubes him up with a firm and swirling hand that has his breath stuttering before he even enters her. When he finally does her head falls back against Ann's shoulder and Ann whispers simply _filthy_ things in her ear, telling her how beautiful she is like this, how the rhythm of her husband's hips is driving her own hip bones against Ann's clit and it feels so _good_ and how much she loves to feel her nipples beneath her fingers but she'd like to touch her clit now, if that's all right. Leslie, biting her lip, gasping in pleasure, can only nod. She sees Chris watching from the corner, a bit of lube on his hand as he languidly strokes his own cock, and she smiles--he's always loved watching. But it only takes a few seconds of Ann's fingers against her clit, her voice still in her ear telling her how wonderful and beautiful and _good_ she is, and the familiar pressure of her husband's cock inside her, the angle long-ago perfected to hit that _perfect_ spot, before her vision whites out and she comes with a quivering shout.

 

            Ben pulls out and carefully discards the condom. It's a minor miracle he hasn't come yet but he's glad, because there are a few more things he'd like to do with his cock tonight. Still, for a moment he just breathes, calming himself down before the action ahead. Leslie is still wrapped in Ann's arms as Ann rubs soothing circles along her abdomen, her hip bones. He loves watching her like this. Loves the way her face brightens as she turns to whisper something to Ann, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her face as Ann laughs, beaming back at her. He loves how much his wife loves this woman, and he marvels at how he and Chris got so lucky, to have this, the four of them together. Once Leslie is up out of bed again, drinking a glass of water from the nightstand, her face still flushed, Ann beckons over to Chris, murmuring something he can't quite hear. Chris' face instantly brightens _even more_ , as if that's actually possible, and he walks over to Ben.

            "Ben!" he says, laying a hand on his back--it's always amazed him, how the enthusiasm in his friends' voice is only rivaled by Leslie's--"Ann would like you to fuck me while she sucks me off. Are you interested?"

            "Hell yes." He doesn't give it a second thought. Ann kneels on the ground before Chris as he once more slicks up Ben's cock before Ben takes the lube from him, moves to open him up with his fingers while Ann plays with his balls in that way he likes. Leslie sits on the bed, watching the three of them with unabashed but distant interest until Ben thrusts into Chris and Ann _finally_ takes him in her mouth almost simultaneously. Chris responds with a shout, his senses nearly overwhelmed, and Leslie slides off the bed, steps up behind Ann so he can brace himself against her shoulders, so she can kiss his temple tenderly and whisper encouragement in his ear as Ben fucks him and Ann unmercifully sucks him off until he and Ben are coming in the same beat, making a horrible mess of each other and of Ann, who doesn't mind at all judging by the grin on her face as Leslie hands her a face wipe from the packet they keep in the bedside table. She always was fond of preparedness.

 

            The boys kiss their wives and each other in turn, excusing themselves to go shower. Once Leslie hears the water click on she raises an eyebrow and extends her hand to Ann, who promptly takes it and is guided to the bed with an unexpected grace.

            "Well my dear," Leslie whispers as she moves up over her body, resting on her knees and elbows so that her head is just above Ann's, her face framed by her arms, "Is there anything in particular you'd like tonight?"

            Despite all the things she told Leslie earlier, despite all the things she's told Leslie in the years they've been doing this, Ann still blushes, taking a deep breath before responding, "I was wondering if we could see how much of your hand can fit up my cunt" There's a predatory gleam in Leslie's eye that, far from alarming Ann, sends another rush of arousal to her core. She's been so worked up for so long now, and it's wonderful to see how much, how primally she is _wanted_.

            "I think," Leslie replies softly, dragging the back of her knuckles across Ann's body--too light, frustratingly light, and Ann arches up into it--"That sounds like a spectacular idea."

            And so that's what they do, Leslie easing one, and then two, fingers slowly into Ann. She moves her hand too slow to make Ann come, doesn't much thrust at all just applies gentle pressure as Ann's slick begins to cover her hand. Despite how wet she is, Leslie still reaches for the lube before sliding a third finger into her. Which is perfect, because now it's starting to burn in the way that Ann loves. The way she knows she'll feel tomorrow, a sweet reminder that this is _real_ , Leslie's really pressing a fourth finger into her and whispering in her ear about how warm she feels, how wet, and how she's doing such a good job. Ann's a mess, her head tipped back against the pillows, a stream of incoherent moans and gasps escaping her, and Leslie softly asks, "Check in?" as her thumb rubs softly against the exterior of her opening.

            "Green" Ann responds without opening her eyes, and Leslie rests her forehead against hers as she slowly, slowly begins to press her thumb in to and right then her fingers press up against her g-spot with just the right amount of force and Ann comes with a messy shout, gushing over Leslie's hand. She's incoherent as Leslie shallowly fucks her through it, as she slowly withdraws her hand before bringing it to her lips to suck her fingers clean, one by one, before wiping the remaining saliva off on the sheets.

            "You did so good, sweetheart," she murmurs against Ann's ear, "So good for me. How'd that feel?"

            "Perfect," Ann says once she's caught her breath, "Perfect, thank you baby. Thank you." They stay there, bodies warm against each other, slowly kissing for a long time. When the boys return from their shower Chris rests a hand against Leslie's shoulder and they both turn to look up at the pure adoration in his eyes,

            "We drew you a bath, when you're ready." He tells them.

            "That's so sweet, thank you," Leslie stands to kiss him before leaning back over to Ann. "Think you can walk?" She's clearly teasing and Ann rolls her eyes in response.

            "Of course," she says, moving to get out of bed only to find her legs unsteady beneath her. "Carry me anyway?" she asks after standing for a moment. Leslie laughs in response before sweeping her up honeymoon style. Ann's always impressed she can still do this, but then again Ann is quite small and it's never been smart to underestimate Leslie's strength.

            "Ben and I will go make you two some tea," Chris says kindly, "You both look dehydrated. And hydration is..."

            "We know honey!" Ann's quick to interrupt him and he smiles before turning towards Ben, who's standing in the doorway looking on with undisguised amusement.

           

            Leslie holds Ann in the bath again. They've both tied their hair up to keep it out of the water, which Chris has been kind enough to add some lavender oil to. Lately he's been getting really into aromatherapy. Ann thinks this is probably some of the lavender oil he extracted himself.

            "I love having sex with you," Ann says, turning a little in Leslie's embrace so she can see her friend. Her lover. Her...whatever the right word is for the liminal space they've lived in for so long.

            "I love having sex with you too." Leslie smiles back at her.

            "It's different," Ann continues after a moment, "with you than it is with Chris."

            "Of course it is?" Leslie looks a bit confused.

            "No, not just like that," Ann shakes her head, moving to the other side of the tub so their legs are tangled together but it's easier to see her face. "I mean...how I love you is different."

            "Oh?" Leslie's not surprised, particularly, just curious.

            "Chris and I got together because we were having a baby, ultimately, and...while I love him, and he loves me, I think sometimes he loves me because of who I am to him. Because I'm his kid's mother. Of course he loves me for me as well, but in the day-to-day reality of living together we each play so many roles--as parents and spouses and people coming home from work and figuring out what we're going to cook and how we're going to get the laundry done and all that. We rely on each other for so much that it's inevitable that we love each other for those things. But you," here she leans forward, arms crossed around her knees, so that their foreheads are touching, "I'm not any of that to you. And you love me just the same. Just for me." Leslie kisses her deeply in response.

            "I do." She says softly. "I know what you mean. This is less...incorporated into our lives than our marriages are. So who I am to you can exist in this safe little bubble. And I'm so glad we have that bubble. I'm so glad I have this with you, and Chris, and I'm so glad I'm married to Ben, and everything is wonderful!"

            "Yes," Ann kisses her again, unconsciously grinning. "Yes it is."

 


End file.
